Valkyria Rising
by TheVeteran
Summary: AU (pre-industrial) Europa is plunged into another Great War between the Empire and the Federation. Caught in the middle is the Principality of Gallia, a strong and independent neutral nation. As Gallia is eventually drawn into the war and as the world seems to be coming to an end, a new age is dawning as Valkyria long thought extinct rise again. Rated T, but may change to M later.
1. Prologue

**Valkyria Rising**

Prologue

* * *

"This is what happens when you spend too much time with the common rabble," said the Marquis, Maurits von Borg, with no small measure of disdain. "I knew this would happen. All that time they spent among those filthy elves." The very thought of being so close to the pointy-eared filth made him shiver in disgust. He would have a bath drawn as soon as he returned to his estate.

"Quite right," agreed Lord Alexander Drayfus, Imperial Ambassador to Gallia. He had a calm, cultured voice and spoke in measured tones; confident and collected, Drayfus was what many would consider the consummate diplomat. "Both the Archduke and Archduchess Randgriz were known for having big hearts for their people, and perhaps that is why their hearts now cease to beat. Such a shame to have their good intentions end in painful death. The people will surely miss such loving and honorable leaders."

Borg scoffed, but said nothing more on the matter as both men watched the Royal Funeral Procession as it slowly made its way along the wide main street that cut straight through the city. The main thoroughfare that ran from the main city gates to the gates of Castle Randgriz itself, which was at the heart of the city, was packed with people, most all dressed in black. The steady beating of drums marked each passing step with ranks of Royal Guardsmen flanking and escorting the decorated coffins as they marched in sharp synchronization.

It was an almost perfect day to match the mood of the country. Dark clouds hung overhead, threatening a deluge all day, and yet nary a drop loosed so far. The wind was gusting stronger with each passing hour, though it was far more noticeable from where they were situated.

The two noblemen were observing the procession from one of the rooms high up in one of the numerous castle towers. Both stood by the lone window of the room, a narrow opening built into the thick stone walls. The room itself was bare, save for some wooden crates covered in cobwebs in one corner and the unlit torch attached to the wall next to the door. It was not what one would call a comfortable room, and in fact both men found it quite unpleasant, but it gave them privacy to speak freely away from prying eyes and ears.

Turning away from the window and pacing around the mostly empty room, Borg stopped to study the ambassador.

Tall and fit for his age, with silver-gray shoulder-length hair and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache that framed a chiseled face, he looked almost regal in a certain light. Technically he was related to the Imperial Royal Family, but distantly so and therefore had practically no claim to the Imperial throne. Borg thought it a pity. It would have been such a convenience to have a friend in the Royal Family, like in the old days, but those 'friends' had long since abandoned him after Gallia declared independence from the Empire.

The visits and invitations from the Borg family's Imperial friends came fewer and farther between, until they stopped altogether. And ever since then the fortunes and powers of the House of Borg have declined. A fact that was not lost on Maurits von Borg, who was lucky enough to be alive in his family's better days. But that was all going to change soon. The Borg family was going to return to its former glory, and perhaps even more, if everything goes to plan and the ambassador holds up his end of the bargain. The thought of it made Borg smile and he wondered what those former friends would say once he returned to the Imperial court.

"So you're quite certain of this, Drayfus? Our spies haven't heard about any intent to reclaim Gallia for the Empire," Borg said, looking expectantly at the ambassador. "It would seem the war with the Federation is the only thing on the Emperor's mind these days."

Drayfus kept staring out the window, still watching the procession with his arms tucked behind his back. "I will admit that there has been no official discussion as of yet, so your spies are correct on that account. However, I'm beyond certain that it is in the minds of a few very influential people within the Royal Court. With the war against the Federation going surprisingly better than even our best estimates, and the front having been speedily pushed farther west, it is only a matter of time before those people talk about returning Gallia to the fold."

Borg frowned. That wasn't quite what he wanted to hear. "How much time, Drayfus? My timetable to be of any significant use to you is not indefinite. The princess will be crowned eventually, I can only delay that so long, and when that happens-"

"Relax, Borg." Drayfus finally turned to look at the Marquis, his gaze steady as a small grin crept onto his lips. "The more victories we have on the front and the farther west we push, the harder it is to ignore Gallia. And you know how it is at court. Very few things happen instantly unless the Emperor wills it."

Borg sighed and nodded. "I suppose you're right. I've heard that the Federation is on the defensive and have lost two entire battalions already." In fact, what Borg had heard was that the Imperial Army was pushing the Federation back so quickly that they were stretching their supply lines very thin, and they have had to forcibly slow their advance recently in order for them to maintain adequate supply lines, lest their armies be overextended. This lull has allowed the Federation to regroup and reinforce their armies, which has in turn made the fighting harder and fiercer than it was to begin with. Gaining more ground was going to be more difficult.

" _Three_ ," Drayfus corrected him, his grin turning into a proud smile. Practically every Imperial held their military in the highest regard.

"The Federation will surely negotiate for peace after such heavy losses," said Borg. Three battalions - that was at least fifteen thousand soldiers! That was nearly a third of Gallia's standing army, and yet only a small portion of both the Empire's and the Federation's full forces. While Borg had his own selfish reasons to make a deal with the Empire, he also understood that if a fight was inevitable, it was better to be on the winning side. And he saw no reason why Gallia could prevail against the Empire this time around.

Drayfus let out a snort and shook his head. "No, they won't. The Federation may be slow to act, but they are not fools. And they certainly have more of an appetite for war than most people think. We managed to catch them off-guard with our sudden offensive before the winter, with the vast majority of their troops still on the way to the front. They have many more soldiers to bring to bear, however, and they will fight all the harder to try to reclaim the lands that they've already lost. The war has only begun, my friend, but rest assured that the Empire will win in the end."

"Which is why we're here," Borg replied pointedly. "The Empire will rule Gallia once more. That is something you and I can agree on, but it won't happen without a fight. And it will be a hard fight, even for the Empire,," Drayfus seemed to bristle at this, subtle enough that most would not have noticed, but Borg was paying particular attention to the man.

"Especially with the greater war going on with the Federation, the Gallian people, and the princess herself, will not simply give away Gallia's independence easily. Nor will the nobility. Gallia's fighting spirit, and the Empire fighting on multiple fronts, is what gained us independence all those years ago after all. However, as previously mentioned, once I am pronounced Regent, I can hasten the return of Gallia to Imperial control... assuming I am rewarded appropriately for my assistance, of course."

Drayfus looked out the window at the procession as it crept closer to the castle gates, his expression very serious. He thought it fitting that Gallia was in mourning. "While I have the utmost confidence in the Imperial Military to recapture Gallia by force," he began, pausing for effect, "It would be wildly irresponsible of me to ignore any significant aid that may help expedite the process while minimizing Imperial casualties and expenses."

There was a silence that fell between them, interrupted only by the distant beating of the procession drums.

"So we have an agreement then?" Borg ventured, hands clasped in front of him.

Drayfus gave a firm nod. "The Empire will come, Borg, and you and your house will have your resurgence... _if_ you help deliver us Gallia. Of that, I can assure you."

Satisfied, Borg made for the door. "As wonderful as this has been, I'm sure my absence has already been noted by some so I must hastily return to the official viewing."

"Marquis?" the ambassador called as the Marquis was halfway out the door, momentarily halting him in place. "If you fail to do your part, there will be no reward once this is all over, regardless of our current talks. The Emperor will not want to reward a man who was all talk and no action, even if your loyalties do lie with the Empire."

Borg didn't respond as he shut the door firmly behind him, the sound echoing across the stones.

Outside, the first few raindrops began to fall.


	2. Chapter One

**Valkyria Rising**

Chapter One

* * *

"Can you believe our first year at University is already over?" asked Faldio, brushing away a stray strand of his normally well-maintained dirty blonde hair. He was lying face up on his own bed, hands tucked behind his head and looking as relaxed as he was thoughtful.

"It did go by pretty quickly," admitted Welkin while he struggled to place the last of his books carefully into one of his already overfilled packs. He had managed to borrow more books than normally allowed from the Randgriz University Library thanks in part to the fact that he worked there a few hours a week and the librarians were particularly fond of him. It also probably helped that he was the son of Belgen Gunther, widely known as the great General Gunther, Hero of Gallia.

Faldio continued, "What will you be doing all summer then? And don't tell me more reading and studying, I already know you'll be doing all that, genius scholar that you are."

Welkin managed to stuff the books in without damaging them, though the pack seemed dangerously close to breaking open. He figured it would hold long enough for the journey home.

"Well, I'll definitely be spending some time with my little sister. I've barely seen her in the last year, and I'm sure she's missed me even more than I've missed her." Welkin paused to think. "I guess I'll also be going over the estate affairs and making sure everything's in order. Other than that, I can't really think of anything else I'll be doing."

"How about you come visit me in the city for a few days once you've settled things at home?" offered Faldio.

Welkin rolled his eyes. "Faldio, I've had enough of the city in the last year. Besides, I've been to your house numerous times. How about you visit me out in Bruhl instead? Spend some time in the countryside for a change."

Faldio grinned, reaching up a hand to his chin to stroke an imaginary beard. "You know, that's not a bad idea..."

Welkin went back to packing. "When have I ever had bad ideas?"

This time it was Faldio's turn to roll his eyes as he let out an amused grunt. "Well rem- ow!" Faldio yelped in surprise as a pair of pants was tossed into his face.

"That was a rhetorical question, Faldio."

Grinning, Faldio pulled the thrown pants off his face and threw them back at Welkin, who caught it and proceeded to fold it so that he could fit it into his remaining unfilled pack.

"So, how old is your sister again?"

"On second thoughts, maybe you shouldn't visit me in Bruhl."

"What?" Faldio looked at his friend with wide innocent eyes, "I can't ask how old my best friend's sister is?"

Welkin gave him a sideways glance but said nothing as he continued to pack.

"Fine, fine. Be that way. If she's anything like you, I'm sure she's hideous anyways." Faldio brought his arms up quickly enough to protect himself from another article of clothing thrown forcefully his way.

"Faldio..."

Face twisting in mock pain, Faldio clutched at his chest, "Do you think so poorly of me, Welkin? I would never make moves on your sister," he said, then seemed to reconsider and added, "Without your permission."

Welkin snorted. "Right. Anyways, enough about me and my family for today. How about we talk about you? What are you doing this summer, Faldio? Mounting any archaeological surveys or perhaps assisting on some digs?"

"Oh, I'll be mounting and surveying alright, if you catch my drift," Faldio wagged his eyebrows and gave him a wink.

Welkin couldn't help but laugh a little, shaking his head as he said, "You know, Faldio, sometimes I wonder how you can be such a scholar yourself."

"Sometimes I wonder about that too, but then there are mysteries that will never be solved, dear friend..." he trailed off for effect, eliciting another short laugh from the dark-haired young man.

"In all seriousness though, there are a few digs I'm thinking of taking a look at. Professor Tartine mentioned a potentially interesting survey expedition in the mountains near Ghirlandaio that I might tag along with for a while. That might take up a big chunk of my time. Maybe I can visit you in Bruhl on my way back from there too."

"That sounds like fun. What's the cause for the survey?"

Faldio held his hand up to the sunlight that streamed through one of the windows of their room, watching as he moved and wiggled his fingers along the beams of light. "Apparently some miners stumbled upon what looked to be an artificial cavern of some sort. They reported seeing some kind of blue flames or lights and were too scared to explore it any further so they closed off that section of the mine."

Blue flames. Welkin knew what that meant. "Valkyria?"

"Possibly. That's what the survey is going to find out. Hopefully it's something worthwhile and not some miners seeing glowing raw ragnite ore in the dark."

"Shouldn't miners be able to recognize ragnite ore?"

"Nope, it's a regular old iron mine so chances are most of the miners have never seen raw ragnite ore up close. Though some mines stumble across the odd cache or vein of ragnite here and there, this one supposedly had no reports of ragnite sightings. The only true ragnite mines I know of are in Fouzen, where there is an abundant source of the mystery ore."

Ragnite. It was a very mysterious mineral and the subject of much study all across the world. From what he knew about it, ragnite was a glowing blue mineral, indicating that it had some sort of inherent energy within it. Though tapping that energy was still beyond anyone's understanding or capabilities, it made ragnite a fairly decent light source if nothing else was available. It also meant that it was rather combustible if heated properly, dangerously so if in large enough quantities.

Another property it had was that it was extremely durable, far more durable than any other metal, which of course made it far more difficult to refine and work into something worthwhile. Still, anything made with even a little bit of ragnite was stronger and more durable than a similar object made of pure steel. This came especially handy for weapons and armor, and was a key part of why the Empire won much of the initial fighting as they were able to produce and field more ragnite-infused war materiel than the Federation.

A silence ensued between them for a while as Welkin finished the last of his packing and Faldio was left to his thoughts.

Faldio was the first to break the silence. "Hey Welkin. Do you think we'll be back for a second year?"

Welkin paused in his packing to look over at his friend and roommate. "Why wouldn't we? You're not thinking of leaving the University, are you? Let me guess, you broke one too many hearts this year and they're now out for vengeance, forcing you to give up your scholarly dreams in Randgriz lest you wake up with your manhood severed and your balls on a platter?"

"Of course not!" Faldio exclaimed, suddenly sitting up in a panic and giving him a mortified look. "Why would you say such terrible, vivid things? That's going to give me nightmares, man! Goodness..." He reached down and cupped his groin area, as if making sure they were still there.

Welking grinned as he took a seat on the edge of his bed facing his friend. "Just making sure."

"You have a sick imagination, you know that? Remind me to never get on your bad side." Shaking his head in disbelief, Faldio lay back down and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. "So, what I was trying to get at, before you went to a completely different and absolutely terrifying place, was that we've all been hearing rumors that Gallia might be dragged into the war," Faldio explained, "And those rumors seem to be intensifying lately. It seems to be weighing on everyone's mind these days."

Welkin frowned. "I can see that it weighs heavily on yours... but surely that's simply idle gossip, Faldio. You shouldn't believe every rumor you hear."

"I know, Welkin, I know, and normally I take things with a grain of salt, but I have a sinking feeling that these rumors are true." Faldio turned his body sideways and propped his head on his hand, facing directly at Welkin. "With the Imperial war machine fully operating, why wouldn't they see an opportunity to try and retake Gallia? We were once an Imperial province after all."

"Well, I for one am holding out hope that those rumors aren't true. My dad always said that war is terrible, and as we know from our studies, it is. I don't want to have to fight in a war. I don't want any of us to."

Again there was silence.

With Gallia's laws on conscription, every able-bodied person could be called into service to fight, meaning both young men could be forced to take up arms. Worst of all, Welkin's sister was now old enough to be called into service too, and that thought worried him most of all. Why couldn't the First Great War have been the last?

"I don't want to fight in a war either, but I mean, think about it, Welkin. The Empire and the Federation have fought to a standstill, though the Empire has pushed the Federation back enough that all of Gallia is now officially surrounded by Imperial-controlled territory. Which means that we're quite the eye-sore on any Imperial maps. And I'm sure the Emperor hasn't quite forgiven us for declaring independence, no matter the trade deals or the diplomatic gestures over the years. To top it off, the Federation is likely too far to lend us any useful aid if the Imperials decide to attack. We'd be on our own," he frowned and corrected himself, "We _are_ on our own."

"Well why haven't they made their move yet? They could have attacked us as easily as they attacked the Federation in the first days of the war, or any of the days since. Yet here we are, with the Imperial ambassador still at the capital and no Imperial armies marching across our borders."

Faldio shrugged, "Maybe they didn't want to tie up any potential resources they might need for the larger battle with the Federation? Or maybe they're waiting for the right time to attack, studying us and finding our weaknesses. Gods know they've had spies all over Gallia since we broke away."

"Or maybe they don't want to fight any more than they have to and they're respecting our neutrality and sovereignty," Welkin said.

Raising an eyebrow at him for that statement, Faldio said, "I hope you don't honestly believe that. You're way too smart to be so naive, Welkin."

Welkin's frown deepened, brow furrowing with worry. He didn't like thinking about such things, but Faldio's logic was frustratingly sound. In truth, he had thought about all of this already, but he had pushed it out of his mind because it scared him, plus it was beginning to distract him from his studies. Besides, there was no sense worrying over something that hadn't happened yet, and more importantly, something he couldn't control.

The mood in the room had turned decidedly somber, and in an effort to lighten things Faldio suggested a trip to his favorite pub, the Drunken Donkey.

"Sure," Welkin said, "But you're buying."

 **x=x=x=x=x=** **x=x=x=x=x**

The journey to Bruhl would take Welkin a full week on horseback at a steady pace. He could probably make the journey in five days if he pushed it. Maybe even four. But he was in no serious hurry to get home. Besides, he didn't want to push Horatio too hard. The old horse was getting up there in age, and Welkin hadn't had time to ride him around as much as he would've liked.

Faldio had been generous enough to offer the use of his family's stables on the outskirts of the city, beyond the walls. Welkin protested at first, willing and able to pay for putting Horatio in the public stables, but Faldio wouldn't take no for an answer. He practically stole Horatio away to his family stables amid Welkin's feeble protests.

That kind gesture from his friend had saved him no small amount of money, which he used throughout the year to purchase more supplies for his studies as well as for occasional indulgences like a gift for someone or a round of beers at some pub that Faldio dragged him to on the rare occasions that Welkin would go out.

On the morning that he was to leave for home, Welkin woke up extra early so that he could make the trek out to the stables to get Horatio and then ride back to their apartment to get his things. He had a quick breakfast of some milk, buttered bread, and dried meats.

When he stepped out onto the street, the cool morning air a bit chilly, he was stunned to see Horatio already there tied to a post. One of the young stablehands, bearing the crest of the Landzaat family on his uniform, was sitting next to the horse and shot to his feet when he saw Welkin.

Before Welkin could even ask, the stablehand bowed and said while hastily brushing off some dust from his uniform, "Good morning, sir. Master Faldio requested that your horse be delivered here today."

Blinking, Welkin slowly asked, "How long have you been out here?"

"Not long sir, less than an hour I reckon," replied the young lad with a shrug. He didn't seem to be bothered that he was out and about so early in the morning.

Walking over to Horatio, who moved his big head towards him and gave his outstretched hand a nudge, eliciting a few pats and a rub, Welkin slipped the stablehand a few coppers and thanked him.

The young lad brightened visibly as he quickly slipped the coins into a pocket and he bowed again. "Thank you, sir! I'll be off now, unless you need anything?"

Welkin waved him off. "No, I can take it from here. Thanks again."

"Have a good journey, sir!" With that, the stablehand left in a hurry, as if he were afraid Welkin might change his mind and ask for his money back.

By the time Welkin was finished securing all his packs on Horatio, Faldio finally woke up and was getting out of bed.

"Please tell me your horse was out there earlier?" Faldio said groggily, yawning as he stretched towards the ceiling.

Welkin nodded, "Yeah, he was out there. Thanks for that. Though I would've appreciated it even more if you had told me that you were having that done beforehand so that I didn't have to wake up so damn early."

"Good. I would've been mighty upset if he wasn't," replied Faldio, stifling another yawn, "And sorry, it must've slipped my mind to mention it to you." Faldio scratched the back of his head and gave him a sheepish grin.

"Are you sure you can't just ride with me now to Bruhl? It's sort of on the way to Ghirlandaio," asked Welkin as he made one last scan of the room for any of his belongings he might have missed.

Faldio grinned, "As much as I would like to, I can't. I'm needed here in the city for the next few days at least. Family matters, mostly, but there _is_ that ball at the castle this weekend I mentioned to you before that I wouldn't want to miss either. The princess will be in attendance and, well, everyone's trying to catch her eye these days." His grin got even wider, and for a moment he had this far away look in his eyes.

"I don't even want to know," Welkin muttered as he walked up to his friend and reached out a hand, "This is goodbye for now, then."

Blinking rapidly as he returned from wherever his mind had drifted off to, Faldio looked at him and shook his hand then pulled Welkin into a quick but solid hug, both young men patted each other on the back.

"Have a safe journey home, Welkin. I will miss you my friend. And don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Amused, Welkin decided not to comment on that bit of advice as he left, making sure the door was shut firmly behind him. There were a few more people on the street now, the city slowly coming to life as the sun continued its steady rise above the horizon. He untied his horse and deftly got himself up onto the saddle, directing Horatio down the street. He cast one look back towards the apartment that had been his home for the last year.

Faldio had rented it out for the whole year, saying that he wanted to keep a place outside of his family mansion in the city so that he would have somewhere to escape to if he wanted to be away from his family. Although Welkin was fairly certain that he was keeping it more for his frequent little escapades with girls than for escaping the pressures and responsibilities of nobility.

Apparently, the young noble had even tried to outright buy the apartment but the landlord would not sell, no matter how high the offer. Surprising, given that most people wanted to get rich quick, and from what he had heard Faldio had offered a ridiculous amount for the place.

Before long, Welkin had weaved through the still mostly empty city streets and was through the massive steel gates. He urged Horatio into a trot as they hit the road, his thoughts turning to home and wondering what trouble his little sister Isara was up to.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I know the story is moving slowly, and I apologize. I'm still kind of trying to find the right balance of dialogue, action, and description. And this story is sort of a test case of sorts.


End file.
